Blind
by fairytalevillainx
Summary: Parentlock. John and Sherlock have worries about what could happen to their child, Hamish, due to their lifestyle. When John wakes up one morning to find that their son has gone missing, the two men do whatever they can do to find him. However, is this a crime that the world's greatest detective cannot solve?
1. Chapter 1

John and Sherlock stood over the white lacy crib staring down in amazement at their little boy Hamish, as if he was some sort of prize they had worked their whole life to achieve. This was something they would never fail to do every night: first off they'd start by reading their son a bedtime story - Sherlock's choice was normally some horror crime novel about a victim that had been tied down and had their organs harvested, but John would normally go against it; second they would tuck their son into bed, handing him his little skull shaped teddybear - again, Sherlock's choice; and third they would kiss him goodnight and stand by him until he fell asleep.

John took Sherlock's hand and twined their fingers together.  
"I love our life." John whispered, keeping his voice soft to ensure he didn't wake Hamish.  
Sherlock had a sad look in his eyes but John chose to ignore it, sometimes it was better not knowing what was going on in Sherlock's funny little head.  
"Come on" he gently tugged on Sherlock's arm "let's go to bed."

Both men lay down next to each other, Sherlock's arm around John as John's head rested on his chest. They lay there together in silence, neither of them sleeping.  
"Do you ever worry about what could happen to Hamish?" Sherlock asked, out of nowhere.  
"I don't know what you mean."  
"I have enemies, John, people who want to hurt me."  
"They wouldn't touch him."  
"Moriarty kidnapped you."  
That shut John up and his thoughts drifted off back to that day, back at the pool. Except this time, a crib lay where John had been standing, coated with bombs. He shuddered and tried to get the thought out of his head.  
"Don't think like that, Sherlock. Moriarty isn't around anymore."  
Sherlock laughed a little at the thought of that. He had witnessed James Moriarty's death with his own eyes yet he couldn't believe he was dead. A genius like Moriarty could definitely fake a shot to the head. Still, he didn't say anything, he could tell by the way John's jaw clenched that he had worried his boyfriend a little too much for one night.  
"Try and get some sleep, Lestrade said he needs you at his office by six tomorrow." Sherlock could hear the sleep in John's voice, it almost covered up the worry.  
"Yeah…"

It took John a few minutes before he was fast asleep against Sherlock, Sherlock however, was still very much awake. He enjoyed watching John sleep, it gave him some sort of peace at mind knowing that John was peaceful in slumber. Sherlock thought about what John could be dreaming about, he worried at first that he could be dreaming about their conversation, but his worry disappeared as soon as he noticed the expression on his face. John's eyes were gently closed over, a smile playing at the corner of his lips. He nestled his head into Sherlock's chest and let out a little groan of pleasure as he took a deep breath in and Sherlock's scent filled his nose. Sherlock cuddled him closer and kissed the top of his head.  
"I love you, John" he breathed.  
Sherlock then fidgeted a little until he was comfortable and rested his head on his own pillow, falling into a deep slumber himself.

….

When morning came, Sherlock and John were both awake but neither had moved from the bed.  
John looked up at Sherlock and kissed him lightly "it's almost five forty, you better get up if you want to be at Lestrade's office on time."  
Sherlock moaned a little but eventually he managed to pull himself out of bed and shove on a wrinkled button up shirt that was lying at the foot of the bed.  
"You're sure you don't want to join me?" He turned to John, buttoning up his shirt.  
John smiled at him. "Someone has to watch Hamish."  
"Hamish could always-"  
"No."  
Sherlock tried to convince John to take Hamish on a case, but John would never have it. "Too dangerous" he would say. Sherlock pulled his trousers on, hopping a little to get each leg in. He hopped back over to the bed and leaned over a little towards John.  
"I'll be back as soon as I can" he planted a quick kiss on John's soft lips and headed off.

Once Sherlock had left for Lestrade's office, John thought to check on Hamish. Before he did, he grabbed a bottle of formula from the kitchen. Hamish was never one for crying, but he was always up at the crack of dawn, so John knew he'd be hungry. He opened the door softly just incase Hamish was sleeping; he'd feel bad for waking him.  
"Hamish, you hungry?" John whispered as he entered the room.  
The bedroom had an eery silence that wasn't usual. John could normally hear the sound of Hamish's breathing but there was nothing there at all. The room felt empty.  
"Hamish?" John called out, a hint of worry appearing in his voice.  
He stepped over the crib and peered into it. His face dropped and he stepped back in shock, the crib was completely empty.

He sprinted into the living room and picked up the phone placed on the low coffee table. With shaking hands he tried to dial the familiar number he had dialled a number of times before.  
"Sherlock!" he shrieked "Hamish is gone!"


	2. Chapter 2

Sherlock ended the call and lifted his scarf from the coat rack.  
"Sherlock?" Lestrade crossed his arms.  
"Have to go, Lestrade" and with that Sherlock headed out the door with a stride, trying to hide his panic.  
"But you haven't even finished the case yet."  
"It was the sister's friend" he called as he left.  
Lestrade tried to work out if he was just saying that to leave early or if it really was the sister's friend, so he decided to ignore Sherlock's deduction and get his team to go over the case once more.

As the cab approached the flat, Sherlock noticed John pacing up and down the front gate and Mrs Hudson was stood with two cups of coffee in each hand. John stopped pacing and ran towards the cab, embracing Sherlock in a tight hug the moment he stepped out. Sherlock pushed him away and walked straight to the flat, keeping his stride up.  
"I need to know exactly what happened, John." Sherlock's work voice was on now.  
"No, no we're not doing it like this, Sherlock."  
"What?" Sherlock stopped and turned to look at John, his eyes piercing into him.  
"You're not treating me like a victim of one of your cases. This is our son!"  
Sherlock paused for a moment. "We're wasting time, just tell me what happened."

After John had explained that he had no idea how they had gotten in, that he hadn't heard anything after Sherlock left, Sherlock sat down putting his hands together in a praying position and resting them against his chin. John stared impatiently at his boyfriend.  
"You can't be thinking! There's nothing to think about yet! We have to get out there and find our son!" There were tears forming in his eyes now.  
Sherlock shot up, frustrated at John for interrupting his thoughts. "Oh yes because we're going to go out there and look for someone when we have no leads as to where they might be or who might have taken them or even if they're still alive!"  
"I can't believe you." John walked out of the room and slammed the door behind him.

Mrs Hudson looked at Sherlock with disappointment.  
"What?" Sherlock asked, having no idea what he had done wrong.  
"Hamish has just gone missing and you're treating it like a case, like you have never even met him before! I thought you were better than this, Sherlock."  
"Emotions don't get you anywhere when it comes to solving cases, Mrs Hudson. As my brother once said: caring is not an advantage."  
Mrs Hudson also joined John and walked out on Sherlock, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

Sherlock grabbed his tools from the kitchen and carried them to Hamish's bedroom. The first thing he searched for was fingerprints, brushing dust off of the sides of the crib, however all he found were prints belonging to himself, John and Hamish. Whoever kidnapped Hamish wasn't worried about leaving prints, or else he would have wiped them, which would have wiped off all the other prints along with them. Sherlock should have known better than that, his enemies are smart, they wouldn't be stupid enough to leave prints, or any form of DNA, it'd be pointless even trying to look.

Just as Sherlock was leaving the bedroom, he noticed something poking out between two books on the bookshelf beside the door. He slowly approached the shelf, feeling a slight notion of fear as he thought of what it's contents could be. Sherlock convinced himself to stop being so foolish and snapped the paper up in his hand. He unfolded it and froze in place as he laid his eyes on its contents. It was not what he had expected it to be, it was a picture of the three of them - Sherlock, John and Hamish - sitting together in the grass at Hyde Park. They were all smiling, Sherlock's hands were wrapped around John's waist and John was holding Hamish close to him. The poses were Mrs Hudson's idea, Sherlock wasn't all for it at the time, but looking back at it now he couldn't help but smile at the idea of them looking like an ordinary family.

John was lying in bed trying to fall asleep, but it was impossible to put his mind at rest as he thought of what could have happened to his son. There was a creak and a strip of light entered the room as the door slowly opened.  
"John?"  
"Don't you think you've said enough."  
"No."  
John sat up and switched the lamp on so that he could see Sherlock's face. It had a remorseful look to it.  
"I apologise."  
"For what?"  
"For what I said earlier, you're right."  
John was a little bewildered by that. Sherlock never admitted he was wrong, in Sherlock's mind, he was always right.  
"What did you just say?"  
"You're right. I shouldn't be treating this like a normal case."  
Sherlock stopped for a moment to judge whether or not he was forgiven.  
"I just... I want our little boy back, Sherlock."  
"I know, I'm going to get him back, John, believe m-"  
Sherlock focused on the painting hanging above their bed.

He lifted his arm and pointed towards the framed painting.  
"Was that always there?"  
"What?"  
"That" he jumped onto the bed and ripped the piece of paper that was edged in the slit of the frame "when did this get here?" he unfolded the paper.  
"I didn't notice it."  
John watched Sherlock's eyes widen as he read the note.  
"What is it?"  
"An introduction" his voice was no more than a croak "we're part of a brand new game."


	3. Chapter 3

Sherlock's grip tightened on the note.  
"No..." John could hardly speak "no, Sherlock. Moriarty's dead. You were there, you watched him put a gun to his head. You watched him blow his brains out!"  
"You watched me fall from a building that very same day." Sherlock's voice was no more than a whisper.  
John fell silent, he didn't want to remember that day, the pain he went through those three years without his best friend. He was more than pissed when Sherlock returned, he was furious. He had felt betrayed by him, it took him months to get over it.  
"Why now?"  
"Hmm?"  
"Why would he come back now? It's been five years since that day, you've been back home for two years, we adopted Hamish a year ago, why wait this long?"  
Sherlock sighed. "I guess he was waiting for the right moment, he was waiting for everything to be perfect before he made his move."

John sat on the edge of the bed, rubbing his temple.  
"What does it say we have to do?"  
"It says we'll be given images and notes to prompt our search, clues if you will. I suppose it's a reenactment of the lead up to our first meeting at the pool."  
"Well, when do we get the first clue?"  
"I'm not sure."  
"You're not sure? Sherlock, our son's life is at stake!"  
"Don't act like this is my fault!"  
"I don't see this kind of thing happening to _normal _families!"  
John broke on the last word and burst into tears. It pained Sherlock to see him like this, he sat down beside him and put his hand on his back, softly moving is hand up and down to comfort him.  
"We'll get him back. He won't touch a hair on his head, not if I have anything to do with it."

...

Both men were sat in the sitting room when Mrs Hudson entered. John was reading last week's newspaper with shaking hands. Sherlock was sat perched like a bird, staring, thinking.  
"This arrived for you, Sherlock." She held an expensive looking envelope, sympathy appearing in her eyes and her voice.  
Sherlock put his arm out without turning to look at her, gesturing for her to place it in his hand. When she didn't hand it over immediately, he quickly glanced at her and then down at the envelope.  
"Mycroft's writing letters now, is he?" He chuckled a little at the thought. "It won't be long until he's sending birthday cards to those who manage to reach one hundred."  
Sherlock took the envelope from Mrs Hudson himself, smiling a little at his own joke. Mrs Hudson left him to read it, seeming a little bit on edge.  
"What does it say?" John asked, putting the paper he was pretending to read down.  
Sherlock opened it, but it wasn't a letter that was inside, instead it was a photograph.

John was alarmed by the look on Sherlock's face and he pushed himself out of the chair to join him. He looked down at the photograph gripped in Sherlock's hand, it was a picture of Hamish, sleeping in a cradle. The cradle was right in front a window, it looked like something from a cheap hotel, and from the window there was a view of a tower.  
John pointed to the image in front of him. "That's-"  
"-Blackpool tower" Sherlock finished, not realising he had interrupted.  
"Why the hell are they in Blackpool?! Is he deciding to just take our baby on holiday?!" John's voice was more than a yell now.  
"Will you shut up for a second?" Sherlock flipped the photograph around, there was writing on the back.

_Having a wonderful time here in Blackpool, Sherlock. Wish you and John could be here. Hamish misses you both very much. x_

John grabbed his coat that was hanging on the door and put it on as he stormed out.  
"Where are you going?" Sherlock asked, removing his eyes from the photograph.  
"Blackpool."

"No, John, we need to think about this!" Sherlock grabbed John and turned him around to face him.  
"Think about it?! Sherlock, our son is over two hundred miles away from us with a psychopath who has tried to kill both of us more than once, and you want to sit here and think about it?!"  
"We haven't done any research, all we know is that they're in some cheap hotel in Blackpool that has a view of the tower, do you know how many hotels that could be?"  
"We'll search them all if we have to."  
"They could be gone by the time we do that."  
"They could be gone right now!"  
"John, I know you're upset-"  
"Upset!"  
"Yes, I know you're upset but you can't just work on impulse, you have to think things through."

John snapped away from Sherlock's hold, walking back towards the sitting room with his head down.  
"Do you even want our son back?" He sobbed.  
Sherlock was shocked that he would even think something like that. "What?"  
"Do you really want Hamish back?" He brought his head up and looked Sherlock dead in the eye once more.  
"Of course I do!"  
"I don't think you do."  
"Why?"  
"You didn't even want a child in the first place, you just went along with it because you hurt me."  
"That's not true."  
"Isn't it?"  
Sherlock had to pull away from John's piercing eyes.

"Okay I'll admit it. No, I didn't want to adopt, I didn't want to have a child at all." He heard John take a deep breath. "I went along with it because it was what you wanted. You said you could never be happy again, John. I watched you look at families in the street with sad eyes. You thought you would never have that. That's why I wasn't surprised the day you told me you wanted to adopt. I wanted you to be happy again and I knew that wouldn't happen until you had a family."  
John felt sick, he sat down on the arm of the chair next to him.  
"So Hamish only has one parent that loves him? Do you have any idea how _wrong_ that sounds?"  
"I didn't say that I didn't love him."  
"You did it because it was what _I _wanted, not because it was what _we _wanted."  
"John, I love Hamish more than anything in the world."  
"How can you say you love him when you don't even want him?"  
"I said I didn'twant him at first, but my feelings for him changed the longer we had him. I would _die _if it meant he could be safe."

Sherlock turned and walked towards the door, grabbing his scarf from the hook at the side.  
"Where are you going?"  
"_We're _going to Blackpool."


	4. Chapter 4

Sherlock's coat flew behind him like a cape as he made his way through the station, keeping up a professional stride. John struggled to keep up with him, perhaps because his legs felt so heavy with the stress of the situation they were in. Mrs Hudson had offered to come along, however Sherlock had made it clear to her that she would only hold them back, leaving John to give an apologetic look as he noticed the look of disappointment on her face.

The train journey was just over three hours long. That meant three hours of Sherlock deducing the lives of passengers as they occupied themselves with magazines or mobile phones.  
"That man..." Sherlock whispered to himself, his eyes narrowing on the back of some old man's greying head and then flicking to the window beside him. There was something odd about him, but Sherlock found difficulty discovering what it was. The train flew through a tunnel and the light on the inside contrasting with the darkness on the outside projected the man's reflection on the window. It was only for a few seconds but Sherlock could have sworn that reflection portrayed the image of a young man in his thirties rather than an old one in his sixties.

John followed Sherlock's eyes. "What man?"  
Sherlock snapped out of his thinking place and thought of a different subject.  
"That one there." He pointed towards a young man in a suit travelling with two women and three children. "See, the woman he's sitting next to is his wife, and those are his kids, but the woman across from him is his wife's sister and he's been sleeping with her for three months."  
John's voice hit a disapproving tone. "Do you think you could focus on your own family for once instead of everybody else's?"  
"No."  
John didn't even expect another answer, he knew this is what kept him calm - kept him entertained - so he just left it at that.

Sherlock pulled his phone from his pocket and opened an application labeled ' '.  
"When did you download that?"  
"I needed places to stay when I-" Sherlock thought for a moment, unsure what word to use "when I had disappeared."  
"Oh."  
His long, thin fingers glided across the screen of the phone as he flicked through dozens of hotels.  
"What about that one?" John said, pointing to a green and white hotel at the top of the screen.  
"That's miles away from the Tower, John."  
"The photograph wasn't taken too close to it."  
Sherlock reached into his coat pocket and lifted the photograph out.  
"See" John's finger traced the photograph "there are loads of buildings blocking the view, you can only see the Tower a little."  
Sherlock focused back to the phone in his hand and tapped the hotel.  
"_'St Chads Hotel. Choose your room view, whether it be the beautiful beach or the fantastic landmark Blackpool Tower' _Well done, John, I guess you were right. Look at this bedroom."  
Sherlock handed the phone to John who held it against the photograph.  
"The walls are a different colour."  
"Walls can be painted, their photo is old, really look at it, it's the same window."  
John had no idea how he could have noticed that - all windows look the same to him - but he knew better than to question Sherlock.

Sherlock sat smiling at the phone, thankful for having John to help him with his cases.  
"Hey, Sherlock?"  
"Yes?"  
"Do you think that when this is over, when we get Hamish back, we could stay here for a bit."  
"Here?"  
"Yeah, just a few days, a little family holiday."  
"What can we do here that we can't do back home?"  
"Well it's just- you know what, never mind."  
Sherlock looked towards the man he had been wondering about. He could barely see his reflection in the light, but he could make out that he was fiddling around with a blackberry phone. Strange. What sixty year old man carries around a modern phone like that?

John pulled Sherlock away from his thoughts once more.  
"Come on, we're here."  
Sherlock stood up and made his way to the exit of the train, he watched as the old man staggered to the other exit.

The doors slid open and they were greeted by a large sign printed on the wall. "BLACKPOOL NORTH STATION".  
"Hurry!" Sherlock rushed his way through hundreds of busy people getting on and off of the train. John followed behind him, apologising to everyone he bumped into.

...

In just forty minutes they were outside of St Chads hotel. Sherlock made no time to stop and marvel at the beauty surrounding him, he just went straight to business. John, eager to find his baby boy, done the same.  
"Excuse me?"  
The receptionist looked up with a smile too wide to be genuine. "Can I help you?"  
John placed the photograph on the desk. "Did someone check in with this boy?"  
Sherlock sighed and made his way up the stairs to find Hamish himself.  
"Ooooh" the receptionist inhaled through clenched teeth "I'm sorry, I can't tell you that, company policy."  
"Look. Please. He's our son, he's been kidnapped. Please."  
The woman bit on her green painted pinky nail as she looked down at the photograph. "Can I speak to your wife?"  
John was a little offended at her question, yet he didn't know why.  
"You can speak to my boyfriend."  
The receptionist passed the photograph back to John with a disgusted look on her face and spat out her words. "Your _kind_ shouldn't be raising children."

John could feel anger burning up inside of him. He hadn't had to deal with a homophobe in a few years, and he was never as good as reacting as Sherlock was.  
"Listen lady-"  
"John! I've found the room!" Sherlock appeared at the bottom of the stairs.  
John snatched the picture from the desk and followed his partner up the staircase, completely forgetting his anger at the woman. Sherlock lead him to a room on the third floor marked with a 'do not disturb' sign.  
"I haven't been inside yet, however, it's the only corner room on this floor, and this floor is the height at which the picture was taken."  
"Why haven't you been inside yet?"  
Sherlock looked down in embarrassment.  
"What?"  
"It's a card lock, how am I supposed to pick one of those?"  
"Well, I was always the stronger one."  
John kicked at the door, making it fall on the sixth attempt. The woman from the desk then appeared behind them.  
"What on earth do you think you're doing?! I'm calling the police!"

John ignored her and stepped over the broken down door into an empty room. A cradle lay in the corner just under the window. Sherlock stepped over to the cradle and lifted out it's only content - another note.  
"What does it say?"  
"_Round Two._"


End file.
